I Know Places We Can Go, Babe
by 1Strangeness-Charm1
Summary: (au/no arrow) There is a certain quiet to the Starling Mental Institute. A monotony that envelops Oliver and leaves him to relive his past, away from anyone he could possibly hurt. Until a catatonic boy and a blonde girl with glasses disrupt his peace, something he's not sure is good or bad.
1. Chapter 1

**_Title:_** I Know Places We Can Go, Babe

 ** _Category:_** Arrow

 ** _Genre:_** Romance

 ** _Ship:_** Felicity/Oliver

 ** _Chapter Rating:_** pg-13

 ** _Overall Rating:_** mature

 ** _Chapter Word Count:_** 2,182

 ** _Summary:_** (au/no arrow) There is a certain quiet to the Starling Mental Institute. A monotony that envelops Oliver and leaves him to relive his past, away from anyone he could possibly hurt. Until a catatonic boy and a blonde girl with glasses disrupt his peace, something he's not sure is good or bad.

* * *

 ** _-short novel-_**

There was a gentleness to the Starling Mental Institute. The thing Oliver had discovered about the mentally disabled was that as erratic as they seemed to the rest of the world, there was a certain kind of order to the way they operated. Patterns were their best friends. A set schedule with set events that they could follow, and deviation from the pattern could mean disaster. But there was a peace in the air, the monotony of the institute a welcome change from the whirlwind that had been Lian Yu.

The other patients ignored Oliver for the most part, somehow understanding without really knowing why that his presence involved danger.

"Oliver, are you listening to me?" His eyes flashed over to those of his psychiatrist. Like every time he looked into his eyes, Oliver had the sense that he was seeing more than he was letting on. As quiet and undemanding as Dr. Diggle could be, he often thought that the man gained just as many answers from his silence as he did from his words. Lying of course hadn't worked. The first and only time Olive had tried lying to him he had been asked to leave and to come back the next day without the intention of lying to him. In retrospect he probably shouldn't have tried to rip off the plot of "Castaway". Maybe if he had payed more attention to movies during his time before the island, he might have had the plot of some more obscure stories to rip off.

"No," he answered honestly. It wasn't that he had intentionally been trying to ignore him, but Oliver often found that voices simply faded into the background, his mind simply more concerned with reliving the past five years than listening to whatever it was the person in front of him had to say. If he sensed no immediate physical danger, than it just wasn't worth his attention.

"You've been here for seven months now Oliver, and we've made little to no progress. I know that it's a lot to ask of you, and I know that telling someone else what you had to go through isn't something that you would ever want to do..." Dr. Diggle paused for a second, his dark eyes appraising him, watching for any indication that his words were registering with his patient. "But I'm here to help you Oliver."

He considered his options for a minute, his gaze leaving John Diggle's to once again look around the room. It was painted a light blue, the same color a pool in a gym might be, and impeccably organized. A large window took almost the entire east facing wall, giving Dr. Diggle and his patients a breathtaking view of the land before the institute. A long straight driveway that ran for as far as Oliver could see, framed on either side by tall trees of which the names Oliver neither remembered nor cared about. All he knew was that in the fall when he had first gotten here their leaves had clung to them, fighting the autumn chill even while they browned, obscuring his view and making him nervous.

This was not the case now. The trees had begun to grow their leaves anew, the green of life invigorating the gruesome looking limbs, sunlight finding it's way down to the small red car that had just parked. He'd seen it coming, the bright red paint a startling contrast to the otherwise peaceful landscape. It was parked in front the institute now, a short blonde woman rummaging around in the trunk.

"I had a friend named Wilson," he finally said. It wasn't exactly a lie. Slade's last name had been Wilson. He looked back over to Dr. Diggle, who had stopped talking and was silently appraising Oliver. Apparently a partial truth was better than nothing. The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a small smile, and his eyes danced with humor.

"Alright Oliver, I think that's enough for today."

Like the time before, Oliver wasn't exactly surprised that John Diggle could tell whether or not he was telling the truth. Perhaps, if they had met under different circumstances, they could have been close friends.

* * *

The majority of the other patients at the institute were a bit eccentric, each one with their little kinks and behaviors that were but small windows to the vast amount of damage that had been wrought on their psyche. Whether they had been born that way, or were changed by the events of their lives was completely dependent on the individual. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was wrong with Oliver, who suffered from severe PTSD and night terrors. Less than two days back from the island he had been deemed too dangerous to live with his family, much less being capable of reintegrating himself back into society.

Apparently you couldn't be dead to the world for five years and expect no one to raise an eyebrow when you tried going about your life as if nothing had happened. There were hours, entire days really, where he thought of what his life would be like had he been allowed to do so. Maybe he'd be out there, using the skills he had bought with so much suffering to try and better his city. Or maybe he would have died on the very first night, a corpse in a green leather suit that should have died that first time when his father's boat went down. He'd seen enough of those war movies, the kind where a soldier survived the entire war, did everything he possibly could to make it back, only to die almost as soon as he returned. Only Oliver hadn't been away at war, and the only thing that had kept him away the last two years had been his own reluctance to submit his family to the darkness that now permanently surrounded him.

Oliver Queen may not have been crazy, but there was something inside him that was irreparably broken. He belonged in this institute. Just like everybody else here.

* * *

He often found that quiet was the worst kind of company. Maybe it was exactly for that reason that he constantly sought out the boy who never spoke. He knew that there must have been some part of him that truly believed he didn't deserve to get better. Especially since the silence that didn't help him was the silence he always looked for.

Roy Harper was a twenty year old boy who had been admitted to the institute the same day that blonde woman with the obnoxiously bright car had first appeared. The first few weeks that he'd been here she had shown up every day, all smiles and bright clothes and chatting it up with the staff, sitting next to Roy and talking to him about every little inconsequential detail of her life. What food she'd had for breakfast and lunch. The cute guy in the corner cubical of her floor she thought might ask her out for dinner. The new purse she knew she shouldn't have bought but was just too damn awesome for her not get. It caught him off guard for a quick second, this woman who was just so open and honest. It might have been different, if she only spoke to Roy about everything when no one was around. After all who better to tell your secrets to than to somebody who was catatonic. She would run absolutely no risk there.

But this blonde lady never faltered in her constant chatter. Her voice was just loud enough for anyone who happened to be within hearing distance to hear without being too obnoxious. Occasionally one of the other patients would approach her, each one a little bolder than the last, and engage her in conversation. She never faltered, talking to them just as openly and honestly as if they weren't crazy and quite possibly dangerous.

He excepted her to stop coming all together. They all stopped coming eventually, the guilt that had originally driven them to appearing everyday eventually abating, letting them go about their lives just as easily as before.

And after a few weeks Oliver had thought she'd proven him right, and that maybe he could finally stop hovering nearby, forced to listen to every inconsequential detail she chose to share while he waited for her to leave so he could enjoy the silence he was promised when he was near Roy.

An entire week went by in which she didn't appear. The other patients took notice, some of them aware enough to make the connection with their own family members and silently shake their heads in disappointment for the poor boy. Even the staff, normally too busy with their own goings on and immersed in the health of their patients took notice. Some pursed their lips. Others simply went about as if nothing had changed. It was expected after all.

* * *

"I'm so sorry I haven't been here in a while."

There was a particular tree out in the grounds that Oliver was particularly fond of. It's roots were twisted and grown in such a way that they sprang up out of the ground in front of it, shaped so that he was able to sit there with as much comfort as could be expected from a chair shaped by nature. It would probably have made more sense for him to sit on the bench only feet in front of it, close enough that the trees leaves cast a shadow over it. But the silent boy was sitting there, eyes open and glassed over. One of the staff members was off to the side, quietly listening to whatever one of the other patients had to say to them, their expressions focused as they listened to every single word, as if by some miracle anything that was said could be the key towards recovery. This particular nurse was one of the more dedicated ones, never once betraying any hint of displeasure or loss of patience. She had short dark hair and wore heavy eyeliner, but there were lines around her eyes and the corners of her lips that gave away her gentler nature. The lines betraying the fact that she was more given to smiles and laughter than the dark makeup might suggest.

"Hi Felicity!" The patient speaking to the nurse said, the arrival of the blonde woman tearing her away from whatever story she'd been frantically telling her listener. Felicity looked over and smiled, fluttering her fingers in greeting before sitting down next to Roy, pulling out two brown paper lunch bags. She set one next to him - as she often did - as if she expected him to open it up and start looking through the contents inside, and not just sit there and ignore it just as effectively as he did everything else around him.

"The flu really sucks you know? And you know me, when I get sick I go down. Suffice it to say that this entire last week I became very well acquainted with my toilet bowl." She pulled an apple out, peeling the sticker off the side and sinking her teeth into it. Oliver watched her bright red lips - just a few shades lighter than the apple - as she chewed, the movement mesmerizing.

"Do you want some?" The sound of her voice snapped him out the strange trance he had begun to fall in. He looked up from her lips to her eyes, surprised that their gaze had been turned on him. Not once had she ever acknowledged him. He hovered near Roy constantly, to the point where the staff had taken notice and even Dr. Diggle had asked him about this new behavior. He never answered, and since he never came closer than four feet the boy, eventually they seemed to lose interest. Felicity ignored him every time he came over, and Oliver thought it was more for his benefit than hers. He liked to think that somehow, she'd gotten the message that he wasn't eager, or even willing really, to talk to anyone.

She held an apple out to him, a smile on her lips and an expression so open and honest Oliver wasn't really sure what to make of her.

He shook his head, but remains where he was. Declining her offer of food was one thing, getting up and leaving was entirely another.

Felicity Smoak became a bit of an enigma to him. She didn't come every day like she used to, sadly explaining to Roy that things at work were becoming a bit hectic and she wouldn't be able to make it up as often as she'd like. When Oliver heard her tell him this, he thought maybe she was letting him know as well. It didn't make sense, since she had no reason to, but liked that she felt the need to do so. He wasn't sure why.

Still, she made it to the institute more often than anyone else, and four times a week was very impressive.

* * *

 **A/N: Like many of the stories I'm churning out right now I have absolutely no idea where this came from. Like Col said, sometimes when an idea comes to you, you just have to run with it and keep yourself writing. I like this little story. I'm not one hundred percent sure where it's going (big surprise there eh?), but I'm eager to find out where it could go. I promise I haven't abandoned any of my other stories, I'm just taking a small break and trying to work my way through the writer's block I'm having right now.**

 **Please leave reviews! They feed the muse! :D**

 **-M**


	2. Chapter 2

**_Title:_** I Know Places We Can Go, Babe

 ** _Category:_** Arrow

 ** _Genre:_** Romance

 ** _Ship:_** Felicity/Oliver

 ** _Chapter Rating:_** pg-13

 ** _Overall Rating:_** mature

 ** _Chapter Word Count:_** 1,118

 ** _Summary:_** (au/no arrow) There is a certain quiet to the Starling Mental Institute. A monotony that envelops Oliver and leaves him to relive his past, away from anyone he could possibly hurt. Until a catatonic boy and a blonde girl with glasses disrupt his peace, something he's not sure is good or bad.

* * *

 ** _-short novel-_**

Felicity Smoak became a bit of an anomaly to him. It seemed that something had shifted in the strange dynamic they had, and she no longer ignored him as she used to. It wasn't to say that she outright tried to have complete conversations with him. But she greeted him every time she visited now, a bright smile on her lips - painted a different color each day - and a piece of fruit at the ready. Oliver had rejected the fruit the first couple times, choosing instead to stare out into the grounds, his eyes focusing on every weak point in the perimeter and every possible means of escape. He knew he wouldn't be escaping, at least not anytime soon, but years of constant need for vigilance had engraved this behavior in him.

Even though he had kept rejecting her food offering, she made sure she brought him one every day, much the same way she brought food for Roy. And eventually, even Oliver couldn't say no to her.

The first piece of fruit he accepted was an orange, she watched him with a smile on her face as he slowly peeled back the skin. But he only started eating when she started speaking to Roy, spitting out the pits when he was sure she wasn't looking in his direction. He wasn't sure why he was self conscious about spitting in front of her, so he chalked it up to Raisa's meticulous grinding of manners into him as a kid.

After that he never rejected the food she offered, always some variation of fruit. He knew for a fact that giving the patients food was against the rules, but Felicity never seemed to care if any of the other nurses were around, and so he simply followed her lead. Maybe they simply left the two - or rather three - of them alone on Dr. Diggle's orders.

* * *

"So," she began, a rather serious look on her face and a container in her hand. He turned his gaze towards her, surprised that she was speaking to him. She apparently was better at finding a seat amongst roots than he was. She promptly sat down next to him, folding her legs neatly beneath herself. Inside the container was a bunch of grapes, but instead of offering them to him like she usually did, she picked one and popped it in her mouth. "What are you in for?"

It was perhaps the most blunt and quite possibly rude question anyone had ever asked him. Not even Dr. Diggle with all his prying questions and silent appraisal of him had just come right out and said something like that to him. It was exhilarating.

"You're blunt." He deadpanned, deciding to ignore her question.

"And you like to sit near my step brother and ignore me except for my fruit." Something must have shown on his face - he wasn't really sure what, he was still out of practice talking to other people - because she grinned at him. "I'm sorry, I thought we were pointing out the obvious."

He huffed, tearing his gaze away from her cobalt eyes. A hand appeared in front of him, a grape pinched between the thumb and forefinger. Without saying a word he reached up and grabbed it, turning the small fruit over in his hand before tossing it into his mouth. Flavor exploded, the grape exceedingly sweet and juicy. Felicity placed the small container on the roots in between them, an open invitation to help himself.

"You know I'm still waiting for you to answer my question," she said after a couple minutes of silence. Oliver didn't turn to her, deciding to keep his eyes fixed on tree that was too close to the fence in the distance, one if its limbs too long and too close. Maybe someone normal wouldn't be able to use it to their advantage, but someone like Oliver definitely could. It was just another possibility.

"I thought you would know who I am by now."

Oliver turned to look at her when she snorted, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Of course I know who you are. It's not every day a handsome billionaire comes back from the dead. I know what the media knows about you." Not for the first time Oliver took notice of how pretty Felicity Smoak was when she smiled. "But that doesn't mean I know who _you_ are." Her smile widened as she extended her arm towards him, her hand open. He took it and give it a firm shake.

"Felicity Smoak… I'm Oliver Queen."

* * *

He knew more about Felicity Smoak than he did about any of the patients he'd been living with for the past eight months. When she was eight years old her father had walked out on her and her mother, forcing Donna Smoak to work long shifts to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. When Donna Smoak collapsed from exhaustion the first time and had come home with doctor's orders to rest and a prescription for high blood pressure medicine, Felicity had sworn that she would make enough money to support both her and her mom. It was a story that Oliver found both endearing and a little sad. Here was a woman who suffered more than her fair share at such a young age, and because of something that Oliver had always taken for granted. Aside from being aware that his family was incredibly wealthy, Oliver had never really thought much about money. He remembered throwing a fit when he was eleven years old because his parents wouldn't get him the horse he'd wanted. When Felicity was eleven years old she woke up in the middle of the night to comfort her mother, who was crying over a bill from the doctor and because she didn't know where she'd get the money for it.

She talked while he listened. Felicity Smoak was clearly a talker, or maybe babbler was a better word for it, only pausing in between breaths and the occasional grape, going on about her early discovery of a love for computers that she'd turned into a successful career in IT. After a while he closed his eyes, imagining a younger Felicity, all arms and legs with her hair pulled into pigtails and glasses that were too big for eyes. He imagined the look on her face when the first computer she built started up. It was easier than he thought it would be, her voice refusing to fade into the background like everything else usually did. He wasn't sure what to make of it, but for once, he found the island - with all its terrors and memories - stayed away.

* * *

 **A/N: A short chapter this time, but I felt good about the progress made in this installation. I don't think this story will be very long, but I kind of like where it's currently going. Maybe you folks do, too? As always a very gratuitous shout out to the bestest friend anyone could ask for, Col. And to you as well Tina, you elegant swan, for reading this story. If I'm being a little honest you telling me that this was one of your current favorites of mine made me kind of want to write more of this. I hope you like it. Latbfan, if you read this, know that you inspire me with your incredible writing and wonderful friendship, too.**

 **Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read/review/favorite/follow. I welcome any and all feedback (including the critical kind, so don't be afraid to give me pointers, I promise to take them with grace). Please leave reviews, they do so encourage me to write. :)**

 **-M**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Title:_** I Know Places We Can Go, Babe

 ** _Category:_** Arrow

 ** _Genre:_** Romance

 ** _Ship:_** Felicity/Oliver

 ** _Chapter Rating:_** pg-13

 ** _Overall Rating:_** mature

 ** _Chapter Word Count:_** 2,124

 ** _Summary:_** (au/no arrow) There is a certain quiet to the Starling Mental Institute. A monotony that envelops Oliver and leaves him to relive his past, away from anyone he could possibly hurt. Until a catatonic boy and a blonde girl with glasses disrupt his peace, something he's not sure is good or bad.

* * *

 ** _-short novel-_**

She thought she might like him. Obviously not in _that_ way. Oliver Queen had barely said more than two dozen words to her - their "hellos" at the beginning of each day definitely did not count - and sometimes she wasn't sure if Oliver actually enjoyed her presence or merely tolerated her because she would undoubtedly continue to visit Roy. Felicity wasn't even sure why she'd decided to speak to him, and even less about why she'd decided to unload her entire life story on him. But he seemed to listen to her, and apart from talking to Roy about her day, it was nice to have someone else to talk to. These definitely were not the kinds of conversations she could have with her coworkers.

Sometimes Oliver closed his eyes and leaned his head back and she watched as a gentle breeze ran through his hair, not quite as long as it was in the photos the media liked to use when speaking of him, but still long enough that she could watch the short strands sway in the wind. Felicity understood that there were many different types of mental illness, and even though Oliver looked like he was a perfectly well adjusted human being capable of living out his life outside of the mental institute, there were some things that always lingered below the surface, too deep to be seen physically, but still there all the same.

"Ahh Ms. Smoak, I've been meaning to talk to you," at the sound of her name being called Felicity turned around, her eyes falling on the doctor approaching her. At six foot three and with muscles so thick his clothes strained against them Dr. John Diggle towered over her. She angled her head back, feeling more than little dwarfed by him.

"Dr. Diggle," she said in way of greeting, taking his outstretched hand between hers and giving it a small squeeze.

"May I talk to you in my office?" He let go of her hand and walked quickly down the hall, Felicity trailing after him. She'd only been in his office once before, and just like the time before she was taken aback by the cheerfulness the small room exuded. She realized - of course - that some of the patients here might have some forms of depression, and while she herself liked the sky blue color the office, it seemed a bit unnecessary to her. A forced brightness that shouted "I'm here to help you get better!" where a gentler color might be better suited. She sat down across the large desk from Dr. Diggle, feeling herself sinking into the plush chair that was too big for her, but would be just right for someone of Oliver's size.

"What can I do for you?"

John Diggle smiled at her, a small upturning at the corners of his mouth, and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers together and brining them to rest against his chin. "I see you're straight to the point."

"We're in a psychiatric hospital, I think it's better for me to be direct."

"You'd be surprised Ms. Smoak, at how direct some of my patients can be. They're not all complicated labyrinths of psychological damage. For some of them, your step brother for example, the problem and underlying cause is immediately known, it's finding the correct method to helping them that can be difficult."

"And the others?" Felicity prompted, his choice of words alerting her to the fact that John Diggle hadn't asked to speak with her to discuss Roy. His eyes sparkled, as if impressed that she wasn't fooled by him.

"For others, while I have diagnosed them, what has triggered their disease is hard to pinpoint. Finding the cause can be as difficult as navigating through a maze that's constantly changing and seemingly impossible to get out of." Silence hung between them as Felicity looked directly in his eyes, a deep brown that seemed both open and yet reserved. For a second she felt like she was looking at a book, the cover and opening page exposed to her, but yet unable to read the page that comes next. "It has come to my attention that you are having lengthy conversations with one of my patients."

"And you want me to tell you anything he might say to me." It wasn't a question, at least not really. Somehow she felt like she should have known that he would ask something like this of her. It was his job to help Oliver get better after all, and what better way than to have someone he thought might be Oliver's confidant tell you all his secrets. Felicity stiffened, goosebumps rising along the skin of her arms, and squared her shoulders. "Conversation is a strong word Dr. Diggle, it implies that there are two participants. If you must know I'm the one that does all the talking, and quite frankly half the time I'm not so sure he's actually listening to me. It wouldn't be the first time, I talk a lot mind you, even my friends tune out on me. But I also have to tell you, that if Oliver did say something to me, I wouldn't tell you."

"Miss Smoak you do realize that anything he tells you could be helpful to his recuperation."

"I fail to see how making him think he can trust me only to turn around and betray his trust could be helpful."

"He wouldn't have to know."

"That's not the point." She glowered at him, standing up. It was stupid and unfair that even when he was sitting down she felt like she was looking up at him. It put the doctor in a position of power that she didn't like him in. John Diggle remained perfectly calm, his complicated eyes continuing their silent appraisal of her. Felicity didn't like it, she felt like walking away and hiding herself from his steady gaze.

"And you're sure there's nothing I can say to change your mind?"

Felicity shook her head once, her lips pursed to keep the words she could feel wanting to spill from her mouth. John sighed, and nodded. With one hand he motioned towards the door, signaling that she was free to leave. But just as she was about to reach the door John called out to her.

"I'm glad that you said what you did to me Ms. Smoak," another smile lit up his features, this one wider and brighter than the one before. "I happen to agree with you. I had hope that it would be somebody in his family that might be able to get through to him, but apart from his younger sister they haven't come around much."

"So… this was a test?"

"Of sorts."

"So you don't really think that the key to his recovery is locked somewhere inside his head?"

"I do," he confessed, standing up and walking over the large window. "But there are many ways for someone to get better. The moment a doctor in this profession becomes dead set on a single way is the moment their patient is least likely to make a recovery of any sort." Felicity licked her lips, not quite sure if she was glad to hear what he was saying to her now, or to be annoyed with him for testing her the way he had. "Before you go Ms. Smoak I must warn you. Oliver may or may not tell you the diagnosis I have given him, and while he does suffer from severe post traumatic stress disorder and parasomnia, I'm afraid that there might be something else there. Something that I can't quite put my finger on. Just… please be careful."

"I promise Dr. Diggle."

* * *

Oliver and Roy were waiting for her in their usual spot. She knew better than to expect a reaction from Roy - in the beginning it had been easier for her to believe that he would do so, the ever silent boy in front of her startlingly different from the snarky-almost-delinquent step brother she'd grown up with. So instead her gaze fell immediately to Oliver, who always acknowledged her approach with a slight turn of his head in her direction. Felicity walked over to Roy, placed his usual brown paper bag filled with fruit and nuts and a small bottle of water next to him, a small part of her imagining what it would be like if he were to reach inside and start pulling the food out, making faces and berating her for neglecting to bring Cheetos and Red Vines and other junk foods he had used to call "the good stuff".

"Hey baby brother," she leaned forward to press a quick kiss to his forehead, ruffling his too-long hair as she did so. She told herself the small squeeze her heart did when she looked over at Oliver was because of the conversation she'd had with Dr. Diggle. In the five or so minutes it'd taken her to walk from his office and down to the grounds she'd settled on being more than slightly annoyed at his approach to her. While she could understand that the doctor felt the need to protect his patients, the method he'd chosen felt somewhat unnecessary. Still, Felicity walked over to Oliver's tree and took her usual seat next to him, close enough to touch if she really wanted. Not that she would, but that wasn't the point.

Damn Dr. Diggle and his meddling.

"Hey there," without pausing she handed over his apple.

Oliver took the apple she offered, his face a mix of amusement and slight surprise. When he didn't say anything back she looked over, eyebrows raised. Though far be it for him to spill his entire life's story at her, he didn't just not greet her. His silent appraisal of her, the amused gleam in his eye, was entirely different.

"What?"

He chuckled, the sound low and breathy, and shook his head. "What's got you riled up?"

Felicity's eyebrows pinched together. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well the huffing and muttering to yourself on your way over here made it kind of obvious. You know they say it's a sign of the mentally unstable if you talk to yourself."

Wonder of wonders… the man had made a joke. It was so strongly out of character for him that Felicity had to tell herself to stop staring.

"I'm working on it," she finally said. Oliver smiled at her, not a large grin, but something small and intimate that looked more genuine than any of the cocky grins she'd seen in those photos of him when he'd first come back. It was the kind of smile that made butterflies erupt in Felicity's stomach. Heat erupted across her cheeks, and she looked away.

"Are you gonna tell me?" He asked, his voice cutting through the silence. Felicity turned to look at him again, wondering why he was suddenly being so vocal.

"Someone said something that really bothered me and it involved a friend of mine" There. Not technically a lie - although calling Oliver her friend, even vaguely - was a bit of a stretch. They were acquaintances at best, if even that. Still, that wouldn't stop Felicity from protecting Oliver.

Silence stretched between them again, Oliver's eyes focused on hers. They enveloped her, trapped her and refused to let go. Not for the first time she reminded herself of why Oliver was here. His mental illness affected him in a different way than most of the other patients here. He wasn't delusional and explosively violent like poor Ben, nor was he silent and catatonic like Roy. Perhaps Dr. Diggle's reveal of Oliver's diagnosis had been an accident, or maybe it hadn't been. His PTSD and parasomnia might prevent him from leading a normal life for now, but there was an intelligence in his eyes that suggested Oliver was able to read her more than some might give him credit for.

She shivered and finally tore her gaze from his, wrapping her suddenly not thin enough sweater tighter around herself. Felicity got the feeling Dr. Diggle was one of the few people who - even if he didn't really know Oliver Queen - had the suspicion that he was much more astute than he made himself out to be. It would be ironic indeed, if the most perceptive person around was Oliver Queen, someone no one would suspect due to his past behavior and five year long disappearance.

Felicity picked at a callous on her palm, still very aware that Oliver was still looking at her. Even she wanted to, she'd never be able to do what Dr. Diggle had asked of her. Oliver would see through her in an instant.

* * *

 **AN: Originally this chapter was planned to be longer, but life got in the way and the headspace I was in for writing the longer version of this just wasn't something I could make come out of me anymore. I'm sorry it took so long to update this and the chapter's not even that long to begin with. Currently out looking for the inspiration to write more of this. As always a wonderful thank you to Col, Tina, and Latbfan for being so gosh darn amazing. Your friendship is incredible. A thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this and sticks with my crazy updating habits. You are all special and wonderful to me.**

 **As always, this humble fanfic author asks you to review, they really do feed the muse.**

 **-Owls**


End file.
